Way Too Close
A/N: I really didn't plan on posting this. If nothing else, it was actually a character dynamic test for a similar situation in my original novel! But then I went through a rash of Supernatural fanficting, and didn't want to completely overbalance my spread of stories (neurotic, I know). So I dug this back out. Enjoy ^-^
"They'll definitely be coming now that we've pulled that stunt. And yes, that's what I think of it; no use pretending my judgment wasn't completely off base," sighed Peter. "The question is, what now?"
"Miraz will certainly come prepared for a siege," Caspian pitched in.
Susan surveyed everyone in the room—her siblings, the prince, Glenstorm and his fellow generals, Reepicheep. "Then we should prepare for one. Send small scout groups out to gather food, firewood. The rest can keep watch, maintain our remaining weapons, and tend to the wounded. Peter, you or Caspian should probably also stay to draw up battle plans."
The boys nodded. "I'll stay, at least part of the time. I daresay I could use some fresh air away form battle," Peter offered.
"We can formulate the plans together, and then help the foragers," suggested Caspian.
"Let's get to it, then."
Dappled afternoon light gave the forest a deceptively calm aire. Nevertheless, it did Peter a world of good. He, Caspian, and a couple of satyrs were pulling a net through a trout pond just west of the How. It was a slower, riskier method for food, but they would need protein for the troops. A faun had already gone back with two fair-sized catches.
"Listen, Caspian…I'm sorry for the way I dumped everything on you yesterday," Peter finally broke the silence. "It wasn't fair. I was already so angry with myself, it just spilled out—"
"You don't have to say it. I wasn't entirely helpful either, and I wanted to apologize for that. Going along with Nikabrik only made it worse. I'm sorry."
At this, Peter unexpectedly cracked a smile. "We are a pair, aren't we? How about a truce? We're on the same side in the end, after all."
"I think that's fair."
The satyrs appeared to smile to themselves, though they witnessed the whole exchange without comment. Together they all closed the net on their final catch, when rustling brush dislodged a few birds some distance away. Everyone froze.
Phew!
The stocky arrow from a crossbow whizzed past Peter's head. Then they were dodging a half dozen at a time. A Telmarine scout party!
"Take the net and go!" shouted Peter, managing to deflect another arrow with Rhindon. "Caspian and I can flush them out." But it seemed he spoke too soon, as what happened next came too fast for him to react at first.
As Caspian broke from the cover of a tree, an arrow struck him in the upper chest.
"Nooo!" the scream ripped from Peter's throat. He ducked arrows—one grazing his left arm—and crashed through the undergrowth to reach the prince, who was completely stunned. They sank to their knees at the same time.
"Get back to the How, Sires! We will cover you!" one of the satyrs cried. "Go!"
"I'm fine—I can still—unh!" Caspian hissed, though he gasped for breath when Peter tried to move him.
"No, you're not fine," choked Peter. Terror threatened to well up in him; he didn't come all this way to lose the one person with the true power to save Narnia! An arrow streaked right over their heads, adding to the urgency. Get your head together, Pete! "Give me your right arm. Now lean on me."
The sound of the satyrs taking on their assailants faded into the trees as Peter and Caspian struggled toward the How. Peter felt blood trickle through his fingers as he supported the prince, not to mention the burning of his own wound. They were soon sweaty, flush with adrenaline, and stumbling to keep upright.
"Stop—I need—a moment," gasped Caspian.
"We can't, we have to reach safety first," Peter replied grimly. But Caspian fell to his knees, almost pulling Peter down in a heap. Running had sped the bleeding process, splattering the prince's front with red. The arrow still protruded from just below his collarbone.
"Take it out," demanded Caspian.
"Not while we still have to move. You could bleed to death."
Caspian screwed his face up in pain. "how close are we?"
"Very close." In truth, Peter wasn't sure. He scoured the surrounding trees for the telltale cliffs that hid the west entrance. Here, however, the forest was thick, a natural defense that now held them at a disadvantage.
"Just give me a minute, and we'll get moving."
"I'm sorry, I can't. Between your wound and the possibility of pursuit, we can't take the chance. Lean on me."
Peter felt a pronounced difference in Caspian's strength this time. His movements were heavier and labored, and his head bobbed as they walked. Luckily, however, the rest of the forest was silent. Blessedly soon, he spotted the rock crevices they were looking for.
"Lucy!" he called hoarsely as they navigated the tunnels. "Lucy, help!"
Edmund reached them first, jumping in to support Caspian from the other side. It caused the prince to cry out. Both girls found them by the time they reached the sleeping quarters.
"What happened?" asked Susan.
"Ambush. A scout party found us." Peter managed to carefully lower Caspian down before collapsing himself. "Lucy, your cordial."
"No, we need that for more desperate injuries, for the upcoming battle. Please just pull it out and patch me up," begged Caspian. His face was going white, a stark contrast to his dark hair and stained shirt.
"We need you, and we need you now," Edmund countered.
Mustering an attempt at a dirty look, Caspian ripped the arrow out himself, eliciting an involuntary howl. Blood pooled out of the wound.
"You idiot!" Peter jumped out of his fatigue to put pressure on the renewed flow. "Lucy, now!"
With Edmund's help to restrain the fading prince, Lucy administered her precious cordial. Caspian shuddered and gasped, then his eyes slid closed.
"Come on, come on…" Peter prayed with all his might. Hand shaking, he peeked at the wound he was trying to stem. The blood had congealed. Underneath, the deep hole faded away.
Caspian gave another great shudder, and opened his eyes again. The pain which had clouded them was also clearing away. Lucy stopped him when he tried to speak.
"I don't waste it. And you are needed right now. Don't you ever try to say otherwise." Exuding an air of someone far older, she got up and left.
"That," Peter declared, "was way too close. I suggest not doing it again. She gets scary when she's truly angry."
Caspian bit his lip sheepishly.
"Peter, you're also hurt," Susan pointed out.
Looking down at himself, Peter couldn't help but marvel at how she could tell, covered in smeared blood as he was at this point. Then he realized what a sizeable hole the arrow had made in his sleeve. The graze still stung dully. "It's nothing compared to what Caspian endured, see? I promise to take care of it before we go any further."
"I'll take care of it now," she insisted. Fully opening the tattered sleeve, she set about doctoring the small injury. Peter felt his face go hot.
Beside him, Caspian gingerly rose to a sitting position. "Like you said. We really are a pair," he whispered, nodding to Peter. "And thanks. For everything."